CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mogodawn was infuriated. Once again Greebie Pigleman had foiled his plans and this time had stolen the Main shard. This Greebie person was obviously a very devious and dastardly Druid by all means.
“Someone will pay for this!” he yelled as he threw a tantrum of aristocratic importance. He overthrew the pedestal which went crashing to the floor.
“I want it back!” he demanded to the guards huddled in the doorway.
“release the black boomerang bats!” he ordered.
The dreaded black boomerang bats were so named because they always returned . They had been bred especially to spy on certain places and return with news of what they had seen.
“Get me the homing pigeons as well!” he yelled at his henchmen who were ready to ride their steeds to wherever they are sent. Homing pigeons weren’t their usual occupation but these were troubled times.
“I’ll have this Greebie Pigleman or my name is not Mogodawn. I’ll search every continent, every island, every mountain retreat. There will be nowhere for him to hide. I’ll get my Mainshard back and I’ll have the half shard as well!” he swore more as a threat than an oath.
“I’ll have my way and they’ll not stop me!” he swore again this time more as an oath than a threat.
“Fetch the Arkwrights. We sail again. Back to Skard!” he commanded.
“Poor Matilda” he said in a more quiet tone feigning caring and ina lovy dovy sort of way.
“My poor poor darling Matilda” he continued as he cupped her face in his hands. “They’ll not get away with this. I swear!” (He id swear, quite often and he had bad manners to boot.
“I’ll get this Greebie Pigleman and his henchman Mogie you wait and see!” he promised. “I’ll hunt them down like the dogs they are!” he swore again this time emphasising it by punching his fist into his hand.
Greebie and the other four Druids were long gone. They had already reached the Isle of Costa Lotta, where they were recruiting an Arkwright ship. They were just waiting for the tide to return. It had gone out many hours ago and had not returned yet. They waited in a seaside saloon singing sea shanties with sober and not so sober sailors.
“How long do you think it’ll take for the tide to return?”asked Greebie to Druid Mogie.
“Dunno!” he answered. “We’ll just have to wait. Tides can be fickle things at times. They come in, they go out, they don’t return on time. They are very irresponsible. Drink up, enjoy your wine. We’ll know when it’s in” he said encouragingly.
They weren’t drinking wine; it was a sailors brew of mountainberry and herbs to fight scurvy. They called it ale. They drank it to fix what ailed them hence its name was ale. Greebie was not too keen on it. He preferred tea but he knew the value of going along with the crowd of sailors he now found himself with.
Suddenly a man burst through the doorway, “The Tide’s in!” he announced and with that the whole tavern seemed to heave a gasp of relief.
Moving like an army of sailors all the patrons stood and rushed for the door. They all had ships to attend and Greebie and company joined the throng to the embarkation docks.
They were swept along with the crowd of sailors and rowers and Arkwrights and loaders and merchants and others. All of whom had business in one ship or another.
Greebie was pushed and shoved till he nearly lost grip of his beloved bamboo staff and Druid Mogie was twisted about inside his robes. He held his staff high above the crowd waiving it in the air over his peaked hoodie. Druid Lufgi Ufi and Master Evol linked arms with Druid Chook as the three of them wrestled with particularly nasty sailors; Arkwrights all.
Eventually they reached their hried ship and all were made uncomfortable for the journey south.
The drum started beating and the oars went out to splash onto the back of the languid tidal waters.
“All we need now is a fog” cited Druid Chook in a glum tone.
“And perhaps some attacking birds” added Druid Lufgi Ufi as he peered up at the skies. It was then that he noticed the flock of black boomerang bats soaring overhead.
“Quick hide” he screamed ducking his head down as if that made him less visible.
The problem with bats is this they have poor eyesight and rely totally on their sense of sonar as a visual means. Therefore they can’t recognise people as all folk look the same to them. They can’t even tell the difference between Arkwright and Dwelf. But they can sense ships and an Amada leaving port on a flat ocean is quite easily spotted. They began therefore to return to the Dark Lords Citadel.